


Inauguration of 2021

by Fandoms_Are_Life37



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America is so obviously a leftist, American Politics, American Presidents, Anti-Donald Trump, Cute lil political husbands, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Historical References, Hopeful Ending, Husbands, Inauguration, Inauguration 2021, It's got a very I-hope-things-are-about-to-get-less-shitty tone, M/M, Mentioned Donald Trump, Modern Era, One Shot, Other Countries Mentioned - Freeform, Political Campaigns, Politics, References to current events (at the time I'm publishing this), So that's basically a warning, They're Cute Though, Washington D.C., in a roundabout way, like a lot of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Are_Life37/pseuds/Fandoms_Are_Life37
Summary: It's just a little fic about the Inauguration that I wrote because I want to write something about Modern Hetalia where Trump is gone because I hate the man. Anyway, it's kinda cute, they get ready for the day together and go to the Inauguration and at the end America comes home and they discuss the day and cuddle. It's also a little funny.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	Inauguration of 2021

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Language. Politics. My own political opinions have seeped into this, so if you're a Trumpie you won't like this (also, what are you doing reading gay fanfic if you support Trump?) Modern events such as the attack on the Capitol, COVID-19, BLM, climate change, international relations, fighting systematic racism and homophobia, etc.

**January 20, 2021- Washington D.C.**

“England! England, wake up!”

England groaned, cracking open an eye. His husband was leaning over him, straddling his waist and grinning as brightly as the sun that was coming through the window of the D.C. brownstone. 

“What?” England asked, propping himself up on one of his elbows and letting his other hand rest on America’s hip.

“It’s morning!” He chirped.

“What have I told you about waking me up in the mornings?”

“Not to do it unless breakfast is ready or you asked me to. But today is a special day! Guess what day it is, Iggy? Go on- guess!”

He chuckled. “I don’t need to. I know today’s Inauguration Day. You’ve been talking about it all week and you have a countdown on the fridge.”

“Exactly! Babe, it’s Inauguration Day! Come on, get up! We have to get ready!” He exclaimed, wiggling with excitement before rolling off him and scampering to the bathroom, putting his glasses on as he went.

England watched him leave, sighing. He didn’t really want to attend the Inauguration. After all, there were a lot of important papers piled on his desk that he needed to get to, but America would come to his swearing-ins when he happened to be in London, and he’d been extended an official invitation by the President-Elect himself. It’d be rude not to go. Besides, when America was so exuberant, it was hard to be in a foul mood.

Tiredly, he lugged himself out of bed and headed to the bathroom where America was brushing his teeth and dancing around, blaring some pop song England had never heard before off his Bluetooth speaker. And god, if he wasn’t adorable when he hopped up on the counter and swung his legs.

England wet his toothbrush and couldn’t help but sway to the music a little when he began brushing his teeth.

“It’s Inauguration Day, England!” America declared after he spat out some toothpaste and began rinsing his mouth.

“Yes, love, I know. You’ve mentioned it multiple times already,” England replied, turning on the faucet to wash his face. He slathered shaving cream onto his skin and began dragging his razor over his jaw, rinsing the blade periodically under the running water.

America leaned his head back against the mirror and sang along to the song.

“What song is this, anyway?” England asked.

“Brand New by Ben Rector. Haven’t you heard it?”

“No.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I found it on TikTok, so since you don’t have that app, it makes sense that you wouldn’t know it. You really should get TikTok, you know. Then you wouldn’t fall for all the trending pranks I pull on you.”

“One of these days, your profile is going to cause an international scandal.”

“You’re just a grouchy old man. How can you be cranky when it’s Inauguration Day? Trump is finally going to leave. These have been the worst four years ever! He’s the shittiest boss ever, too! He always either wouldn’t let me do anything and then he fucked everything up or he refused to do his job and I had to do it. No cooperation, no ‘Hey, America, you’re like 400 and something, so what do you think about this tariff?’ Nothing! I was so lonely, Iggy. We weren’t best buds at all like I was with Barack.”

England smiled sympathetically, applying aftershave. “I know, dear. But Biden will be your boss now, and you like him.”

“He’s a little weird sometimes, but yeah. He’s better than some of my other bosses, and he’s way better than Donald Dump.”

“Trump.”

“I meant what I said.”

He laughed, rinsing off his face. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got to get dressed.”

America hopped off the counter, bouncing back to the bedroom and throwing open his closet. He had picked out his inauguration outfit (a white collared shirt, purple tie, black suit jacket, black pants, his lucky Captain America socks that would be hidden by his pant’s legs and his favorite dress shoes) back in November as soon as it was clear that Trump lost the election. Now he was shimmying out of his pajamas into his formal clothes.

England was dressed similarly in a navy blue suit over a white button-down and gray vest. The most notable difference was that America’s lapel had a small pin of his flag through it while England’s had a miniature Union Jack beside a pin that matched America’s. It had felt wrong to wear his flag to such a decisively American event, but he wasn’t willing to swap them out. Besides, side-by-side was symbolic.

His husband hugged him around the waist and grinned at him. “Ready for breakfast? Canada had a muffin basket delivered yesterday to congratulate me, so we could eat a few of those on the way to the Capitol.”

“That was nice of him. Sure, that sounds good.” He paused, sniffing. “You put on way too much cologne.”

“It just needs time to breathe,” America protested, grabbing him by the hand and leading him to the kitchen. He switched the music on his speaker off and wrapped a few pastries in a pair of napkins “Okay, so, no worries, there won’t be a crowd. They replaced the people with a bunch of national and state flags, so we’re not going to be a COVID-19 cesspool. They’re also blocking off a bunch of streets so no one gets assassinated and no mobs will try to kill Congress again. Let’s see, what else? Oh! The Inauguration Committee said you don’t have to put your hand over your heart for the National Anthem since it’s not yours but they’re requesting you stand to be polite. Obviously, you don’t have to do the Pledge of Allegiance. Um… Since you’re my plus one, you’ll enter right in front of me and we’ll sit together next to the Bidens. You brought your good coat and some gloves, right? It’s supposed to be cold.”

Affectionately, England patted him on the cheek. “Yes, dear. Now calm down. I know you’re excited, but we need to focus and get going.”

He nodded. “You’re right. Do you have your mask? I know we can’t get or spread COVID since we’re nations but they want us to wear them anyway to be a good example.”

“Yes, it’s in my pocket.”

“Okay.” He looked around. “I think we’ve got everything. Let’s go!”

America was in his coat and out the door in a flash, passing England a muffin so that he could eat as they made the short walk to the government car arranged to pick them up.

“Off we go!” America announced, buckling his seatbelt.

The driver pulled down the street and took a classified route to the Capitol to participate in the stream of cars heading to the event. They were allowed past security and England’s jaw dropped at the sight of America’s National Mall. “Christ, I knew you put up a lot of flags but that is a _lot_ of flags!”

England decided not to mention how the sight of the two Betsy Ross flags hanging over the building pillars made his heart momentarily clench. He was proud of America and all he had achieved, but the memories of that time still hurt.

“Yep. And there are lanterns at the Reflecting Pool to remember all the Americans that died from COVID.”

England nodded somberly, squeezing his hand. “It’s going to get better, love. The vaccine just began rolling out, and New Zealand promised to help you with getting the virus under control once the Trump Administration is gone.”

“That’s true. Oh, and he’s got a bunch of executive orders lined up to sign today. I’ll be a good ally again; just you wait!”

“Good, I’ve missed working closely with you.”

He gave his husband a light shove with his shoulder. “Awww, thanks Iggy. I’ve missed working with you, too.”

The car came to a stop and the two nations shoved the last of the muffins into their mouths before pulling on their masks and hurrying into the Capitol to wait. They were near the end of the procession, so they had a long time before it was their moment to exit the doors.

“We’ll have to leave separately,” America was saying when England’s attention swayed back to him. “I’m going to go on to all the other events of the day with Joe. Lucky you, you get to go home.”

“I’ll watch the other events on a live stream to support you,” England promised. “But I’m going to fill out the papers the Parliament needs me to go through while I do it.”

“You’ll watch?” America asked, smiling at him.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“I’d kiss you if I didn’t think you’d punch me.”

England rolled his eyes playfully. “I wouldn’t punch you, but now’s not a good time for kissing.”

“You wouldn’t punch me?”

“But now’s not a good time. There was a second half to that sentence.”

America gave him a half-hearted pout. “But I love kissing you.”

“You can after the inauguration, how about that? As a celebration.”

“With all the cameras there?” America asked, eyes wide.

“Don’t get too used to it.”

“You’ve got it, babe.”

A woman in heels clicked up to them. She smiled behind her mask, giving them a little wave since handshakes were discouraged. “Hello, Mr. America. Mr. England. If you’d kindly follow me to the chute, your turn to exit is approaching.”

“Lead the way,” America replied, taking England’s hand and heading through the Capitol Building.

England hadn’t been inside it many times, and he certainly had never gone down the path that they took to the hallway that would lead them out onto the steps. He spent much more time visiting the White House than he ever did the Capitol (America had lifted the ‘England’s-not-allowed-to-have-matches if he’s in D.C.’ ban a few years ago- not that it mattered since he hadn’t carried a lighter around with him since he gave up smoking in the 50s, but still, it was nice to be trusted in the US again), and even then, he only had been in some parts of it due to security and merely the way it was laid out.

“Here we are,” She said, gesturing. “I’ll let you know when it’s time for you to go out. Mr. England, the procession lists you as going first, and then Mr. America, you’ll go after him. There will be a person out there to direct you to your seats beside the Biden family’s section.”

“Thank you,” England said to her, tugging on his gloves to keep him warmer once he got outside. 

A few moments of lag-time were given before the woman sent the two nations toward the doors. Outside, he could hear the announcement be made: “The Personification of the United States of America and his husband, the Personification of England.”

The doors opened in sync and England started down the steps, giving a small wave to the cameras and spectators, but the applause really picked up when his husband exited behind him. He was probably much more enthusiastic about all the attention than England ever was and waving, but England couldn’t turn around and check.

They were ushered to their chairs beside the empty seats where the Biden family would soon sit. Until later, everyone was to remain standing, so they conversed politely with the politicians and their families. America made a point to speak to his former presidents that were at the ceremony: Bush, Clinton, and Obama. Trump had refused to attend, and Carter could not come due to health complications, but England didn’t mind skipping the pleasantries and handshakes with them. He hadn’t enjoyed working with either one very much.

Finally, after a few flurries of snow began to fall, the President-Elect and his wife, Dr. Jill Biden, came down the steps, and the announcer said that they could be seated. Senator Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota gave a well-worded speech followed up by the Chair of the Inaugural Committee, Senator Roy Blunt from Missouri. His speech wasn’t quite as well-delivered, but it was far from bad and started with a joke about the snow, so no one minded sitting through it. After that, everyone had to pray, so the two nations (both of whom had given up on religion centuries ago) just bowed their heads respectfully and waited for the insufferably long prayer to be over with.

Next came the presentation of the flags of the military branches, and America quietly snorted.

“What?” England whispered.

“The Space Force,” He whispered back, nodding toward it. “They put the Space Force Flag in.”

“Well, it _is_ a branch of your military now. An idiotic one, but one nonetheless.”

“Yes, but England, they put it in front of the Coast Guard.”

England had to stifle his own laugh as he realized that America was right. “Is that some kind of procedure? Please tell me that’s a procedure and not a snub at your poor Coast Guard.”

“I don’t even know. I try my best not to think about the Space Force.”

“Your citizens’ tax dollars are going into that.”

“Your citizens pay for your monarchs to do nothing all day.”

He shrugged. “Fair enough. Now hush- the Marine Band is almost done playing.”

For once in his life, America was quiet as the announcer proclaimed that the National Anthem would come next, sung by none other than Lady Gaga. She came onto the stage wearing an oddly shaped dress in black and red with a bird pin stretched across her shoulder and chest.

“Is that a mocking jay?” England murmured. “Like in the Hunger Games?”

“Dove. But that would be funny. Honestly, fuck governments, you know?”

England stared. “Sweetheart, we’re both part of governments.”

He blinked. “Oh, yeah.”

Lady Gaga picked up a golden microphone and began to sing The Star-Spangled Banner. England did his best not to think about when it was written- 1814. The same year he’d torched this very city and fought a war against his now-husband.

In a way, hearing the song was nice. They’d made such progress between the Battle of Fort McHenry and now. That year, he’d set flame to the White House with righteous anger and burning tears in his eyes. Today, he was married to America, attending a sacred ceremony with nothing but affection in his heart.

The song concluded, and they clapped respectfully as she went back inside the building post-pausing to speak to some guests. Next came the Pledge of Allegiance, during which both nations remained silent with their hands at their sides since America needn’t swear an oath of loyalty to himself and because England was, well, England. His legal loyalty lay only in the United Kingdom, though he knew he’d do anything for his husband (and America would do anything for him in return).

What stood out about it was that the woman who recited it to the crowd used ASL to make it more accessible to deaf and hard of hearing viewers who were watching the coverage of the ceremony. It was a nice gesture (literally), although the rest of the events were not signed, so he didn’t know how helpful it actually was.

Senator Klobuchar spoke again, and then Kamala Harris took her oath of office, sworn in by Justice Sonya Sotomayor, the first Latina Supreme Court Justice. It was truly an event of firsts: Harris was not only America’s first woman vice-president, but the first African American and first Asian-American VP, as well.

It was honestly strange to think it had taken so long, but the day was finally here, and America was smiling as he watched his new VP taker her oath, so England chose to disregard the 245 years it had taken and focus on the moment at hand.

Harris hugged her husband, fist-bumped Biden, waved to the crowd, and took her seat again again so that the next event could begin: Jennifer Lopez singing a rendition of This Land is Your Land and America the Beautiful.

This Land is Your Land sounded a little Manifest-Destiny to England, but he couldn’t argue with the lyrics of America the Beautiful. As he gazed at his husband watching the performance, blue eyes sparkling with joy, he couldn’t help but reach over to interlock their fingers, thinking, _“Beautiful indeed.”_

America glanced down at their hands and smiled, keeping his grip as he turned back to the show. That was enough to satisfy England, though. He could hold his husband in private later. For now, he was content to look out at the sea of flags rippling in the wind.

When Jennifer Lopez left, Senator Klobuchar spoke again. “Well, that was great. The sun is shining, and, Mr. President-Elect, this is the first Inauguration in the history of America where J-Lo is the warm-up act for Chief Justice Roberts. With that, it is now my distinct honor to introduce the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, John Roberts, to administer the Presidential Oath to the next President of the United States, Joseph R. Biden.”

Roberts took his place as Biden and his family shuffled forward. Somewhere in the crowd, a baby cried, breaking the silence.

“Please raise your right hand and repeat after me,” Roberts directed as Biden placed his left on the Bible. “I, Joseph Robinette Biden Junior, do solemnly swear...”

“I, Joseph Robinette Biden Junion, do solemnly swear...” Biden repeated.

“That I will faithfully execute…”

“That I will faithfully execute…”

“The office of President of the United States.”

Biden squinted in the sun as he said, “The office of President of the United States.”

“And will, to the best of my ability…”

“And will, to the best of my ability…”

“Preserve, protect, and defend…”

“Preserve, protect, and defend…”

“The Constitution of the United States.”

“The Constitution of the United States.”

“So help you, God.”

“So help me, God,” Biden finished, lowering his hand.

“Congratulations, Mr. President,” Roberts said as the people began to cheer and clap. Dr. Jill Biden kissed her husband, and their family hugged each other, blinking back tears of joy as the Marine Band picked up its peppy tunes again.

It was official- Donald Trump was no longer the president, and Biden had replaced him.

America whirled to England, beaming as bright as the sun. “Can I have that kiss now?”

England couldn’t help the small smile that crept up on his face. “I suppose so.”

Never one to waste time, America pulled him in by the waist and pressed their lips together, relishing in the trumpets playing below, the excitement of the attendees, the transition of power, and the feeling of connection he always got when they kissed.

It ended all too soon as the announcer told everyone to sit down. The nations obeyed, blocking out the whining of the baby that had returned. Again, silence draped itself over them until Klobuchar retook the stand.

“My fellow Americans, a moment we have all been waiting for. It is now my great privilege and high honor to be the first person to officially introduce the 46th President of the United States, Joseph R. Biden Junior!”

They all applauded and stood again as Biden stepped up to the podium to give his speech. It was a good address, reinforcing the idea that the country has come a long way in improving itself, and that it was important to celebrate that. Yet, at the same time, it acknowledged that there was still a long way to go and that it would be hard to strive toward being better. But Biden asserted that he was up to strive toward that goal, despite recent events like the pandemic, racial injustice across the police force, the suffering climate, and the domestic terrorists that had stormed through America’s capital only a few weeks ago.

That day had been terrible. England had just landed in D.C. for his visit when he received a phone call from his husband, who was in the Senate Chamber, ready to sign off on the votes like he did every four years. He’d sounded panicked, telling England he wasn’t hurt, but they were under attack and were evacuating. England had instantly flipped out, asking where he was and if he could meet him there so he could be with him, but the answers he got were not the ones he wanted. America wasn’t at liberty to tell him anything except that they were going to a bunker, and no. He hung up once cell reception got spotty, and England was left to watch the news for updates, anxiously pacing up and down the living room.

In the end, America was unharmed, as were his legislators, but others had died, including a man who had been beaten to death by the raging mob that put him under siege. The damage done to America himself was in his heart rather than on his body. He was disgusted by the words of his boss, enraged at the sight of Confederate flags inside his sacred legal building, and betrayed by the actions of his treasonous citizens. He’d brushed it off as not being impactful on him to the press, but England knew better. He had been the one to hug his husband and wipe away his tears at the end of the stressful day and reconvention of Congress to certify the votes.

But now, they were back in the same place, looking out on a brighter future. Trump was out of office, and Biden was speaking to the cameras, assuring the public that he would make their country safer and better. He spoke of tolerance when Trump would have spouted hatred, referenced history where Trump would have talked about himself, and emphasized unity when Trump would have pointed fingers.

“I pledge this to you: I will be a president for all Americans. _All_ Americas,” Biden swore, “And I promise you, I will fight as hard for those who did not support me as for those who did. Many centuries ago, Saint Augusta, the saint of my church, wrote that a people was a multitude defined by the common objects of their love. Defined by the common objects of their love. What are the common objects Americans love? That define us as Americans? I think we know. Opportunity, security, liberty, dignity, respect, honor, and, yes, the truth.”

“Hamburgers,” England whispered.

America snorted but kept his face mostly stoic. Quietly, he said back, “Explosives.”

England felt his lip twitch upward. “Pickup trucks.”

“Coffee.”

Back at the podium, Biden continued, “Recent weeks and months have taught us a painful lesson. There is truth, and there are lies. Lies toll for power and for profit, and each of us has a duty and a responsibility as citizens, as Americans, and especially as leaders- leaders who have pledged to honor our Constitution and protect our nation. To defend the truth, and defeat the lies.”

England thought for a moment before muttering, “Fast-food.”

“Jeeps without doors.”

That brought back memories of fast joy-rides with America through Kentucky before they were married, back in the 80s while blaring Guns N’ Roses over the stereo. He forced himself not to get sappy at the thought and responded, “Loud music.”

“Baseball.”

“American football.”

“Look,” Biden continued, “I understand that many of my fellow Americans view the future with fear and trepidation. I understand they worry about their jobs. I understand, like my dad, they lay in bed staring at the- at night staring at the ceiling, wondering, can I keep my healthcare? Can I pay my mortgage? Thinking about their families, about what comes next.”

America probably would have been somber if England hadn’t been keeping his spirits up with the silly exchange. He added to their hushed list, “High-fructose corn syrup products.”

England really did chuckle a little at that, but he quickly stopped and said back, “Nationalistic advertising.”

“Tabloids.”

“English accents.”

America smiled a little. “You’ve got me there. How about guns?”

“Good one.”

“I promise you, I get it,” Biden said. His tone was meaningful, and England almost felt bad about joking with America while he was giving such an important speech, but the tiny smile on America’s face made his guilt dissipate. “But the answer is not to turn inward. To retreat into competing factions, distrusting those who don’t look like- look like you. Or worship the way you do. Or don’t get their news from the same sources you do.”

“Unnecessarily spaced out houses.”

“Large bonfires,” America murmured.

“Amazon products,” England said, and when he saw America struggle to hold back his laughter, he decided it was time to call it quits. It’d be bad if he burst out laughing in the middle of Biden’s sensitive speech. “All done.”

“Iggy…”

“We’ll play again later, yeah?”

America pondered the proposition for a moment. “We’ll forget.”

“I won’t. Now button it and listen to your new boss.”

Biden was declaring- “May this be the story that guides us, the story that inspires us, and the story that tells ages yet to come that we answered the call of history. We met the moment. Democracy and hope, truth and justice did not die on our watch, but thrive. That America secured liberty at home and stood once again as a beacon to the world. _That_ is what we owe our forebearers, one another, and generations to follow. So, with purpose and resolve, we turn to those tasks of our time. Sustained by faith, driven by conviction, and devoted to one another and the country we love with all our hearts. May God bless America, and may God protect our troops. Thank you, America.”

With that, he finished the speech, and the people watching clapped, whistled, and cheered.

“It’s always so confusing when they address our people by our names,” America remarked to England, knowing he’d understand the struggle. “It’s like, are you talking to me? Or my citizens?” 

“I think, in that case, it was a mix of both, love,” England said.

Through the speaker, the announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Garth Brooks to perform Amazing Grace.”

A man England didn’t recognize came down the steps wearing a belt with a large metal buckle and a black cowboy hat as the opening bars of the familiar song began. Despite him not knowing the man, America seemed very interested, and he was, of course, happy with the song selection. Amazing Grace was one of his favorites.

Brooks did the song a capella until he invited everyone to sing with him. Then, they concluded the piece together. Brooks shook people’s hands and greeted the former Presidents with hugs while Roy Blunt went back to the podium. Brooks had a slightly awkward mishap when he didn’t think the President on the far end of the row was going to come over and greet him and started leaving, but Obama pulled him back. The crowd chuckled, briefly confusing Blunt before the country singer exited and the Missouri Senator introduced the woman that would be reading the Inaugural poem. That was a tradition of America’s: someone would read a hope-filled poem at the Inaugurations. This year was no exception, and twenty-three-year-old Amanda Gorman gave a reading of her poem, The Hill We Climb. Very symbolic, considering they were on Capitol Hill, and after her, a pastor from Delaware, Silvester S. Beaman, held a very long prayer that the nations had to stand through.

Unfortunately, they had to stand for the military flags being taken away, too, but the people holding them were efficient and quickly left the stage (if they could call the area that), concluding the ceremony.

“I gotta go now, babe,” America told him. “I’m supposed to leave with Biden now that he’s the President.”

“Alright,” England said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yep. We’ve got to go to Arlington National Cemetary to lay down the wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Then we have the Presidential Escort from 15th Street to the White House, where I’ll be for a while because we have a bunch of Executive Orders to sign. But there will be this online concert thing from the Lincoln Memorial starting at 8:30, so after that’s over and Biden dismisses me, I’ll come back home.”

“Christ, when will you have time to eat? Or use the bathroom?”

America laughed. “No idea, babe. But maybe, if you’re feeling super nice today, there will be take-out at the house when I get home? Maybe?”

“It might be cold if Biden keeps you after the concert, but I could make something.”

“No!” America quickly objected. “No, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll grab some McDonald’s on my way home.”

England was about to reply sassily about his cooking when the new First Lady called, “America!”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Coming, Jill! Okay, sorry, Iggy, time to leave. See you tonight!”

One last cheek kiss, and America hurried off to speak to the First Family. He hugged Jill and her husband before going up the steps with them, gushing about how much he’d missed them the whole way and, from what England could catch before he couldn’t hear anymore over the din of the crowd, how miserable he’d been for that past four years.

But, hey, it was about to get better.

***

America hadn’t done so much in one day since the Obama Administration was in control. They were so busy that they were even late to Arlington, but the concert was terrific, including a rendition of Here Comes the Sun that made America cry happy tears and the finale of Firework by Katy Perry, which was, of course, paired with an insane firework show over the Washington Monument.

He came home buzzing with energy and wrapping England in a massive hug the moment he saw him. “Iggy, did you see the fireworks?”

England smiled. He had, and he had to admit they were spectacular. Even better, though, were the shots a couple of cameras got of their bright colors reflecting in America’s hopeful eyes. He hadn’t looked that relieved in a long time, and it warmed England’s heart to see him so genuinely content.

Had the JCCRC Livestream he’d kept up on his laptop all day forced him to watch a ceremonial marching of American military personnel dressed in various uniforms they’d utilized throughout history, including sets of men in colonial coats while America, his new President, the First Lady, the Vice-President, and the Second Gentlemen looked on? Yes. But he’d learned a lot on a virtual tour of the Capitol Building about random paintings he’d never paid much mind to before, which was entertaining. Plus, there was a parade! No Inaugural Ball this year, unfortunately, but the concert was great, so that made up for it.

“Yes, love, I saw the fireworks. They were very good.”

“Thanks! I mean, I didn’t help coordinate them, but, you know. Anyway, I got you a salad while I was at McDonald’s in case you were getting hungry again.” America informed England, passing it to him while he flopped down on the couch.

England raised a brow. “Since when does Maccie’s sell salads?”

“I dunno. They tried to rebrand as healthier a while back. Anyway, if it’s no good, you can throw it out, but I figured you might be hungry if you ate dinner a while ago. I mean, it’s…” He checked his watch. “Ten o’clock, so, yeah. Anyway, wanna know about the Executive Orders we got signed today?”

“Sure,” England said, sitting down on the other end of the couch.

“Okay, so the first one requires people to social distance and wear masks on federal property, which is good because people got COVID while we were at the bunker on the 6th, and some of the Republicans wouldn’t wear masks. The second was called the 100 Day Masking Challenge. Dumb name but good intentions. It’s basically just trying to get the people to wear masks. Then there was one making a new position: COVID-19 Response Coordinator. It also brought back the Directorate for Global Health and Biodefense to the National Security Council.”

“Anything non-pandemic related?”

“If you consider re-entering WHO non-pandemic related.”

England sighed. “Thank god. That was ridiculous. I was beyond pissed when Trump pulled you from one of the few international meetings we get to take on together.”

“I know. There’s nothing I love more than tackling global politics as a power couple.”

“A what?”

“Internet term. God, Iggy, you’ve got to get TikTok. Okay, anyway, the next one paused payments on federal loans to give the people some time to recuperate. Although it also called on Congress to provide COVID relief aid, so it’s still kind of pandemic related. Then again, what do you expect? Honestly, I wish our governments had worked on Spanish Flu or AIDS like this.”

“Well, we weren’t as medically advanced during those pandemics. We did the best we could. I think we should just be thankful people aren’t dying from COVID as often as they have in other pandemics from the past.”

America nodded. “That’s true. I know the Bubonic Plague was a nightmare for you.”

England swallowed dryly. “Best not to dwell on that. What other orders did your boss sign?”

“Well, within thirty days, we’ll be back in the Paris Agreement.”

“Oh, America, that’s wonderful!”

“He’s halting certain drillings and stuff to reassess to make sure that Trump’s policies aren’t too damaging to the environment, he disbanded Trump’s 1776 Commission, and he’s preserving DACA so that undocumented immigrant children will be protected. In that same general vein, he immediately stopped the construction of the southern border wall, repealed Trump’s mega-racist Muslim Ban, and is pausing immigration enforcement to reform it. Because, literally, fuck ICE.”

“I heard something about Liberia, too, right?”

“Yes, Liberians will be allowed to remain in the country if they’ve been here a long time—no deportation for them. Oh, and he’s putting in new ethics rules for government officials, of course. We’re trying to hold people accountable to higher standards this term. But guess what?”

“What?”

“He signed an order saying that the Civil Rights Act should protect people against workplace discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity!”

England grinned. “Love, I’m so proud of you two. One day and you’ve already done all that?”

“Yep, and we’re working on the Equality Act, too. I just…” He paused, sighing happily. “I feel like it’s gonna be good. I feel like things are finally looking up for the first time in a long time.”

“They are,” England murmured, pulling America into his embrace and kissing his temple. “We’re going to be okay, America. Things have been bleak, but even if the Biden Administration isn’t everything you hope for, there will be many years to keep striving for a ‘more perfect union.’”

He let his head fall into the crook of England’s neck, inhaling his scent and taking a steadying breath. “Yeah. A more perfect union. I think I can do that. As long as I have you by my side.”

England smiled and squeezed him tight. “Always, darling.”

There was a long silence where they just enjoyed each other’s company until England blurted- “Condiments.”

America frowned. “What?”

“The list we were working on. Things your people love. They love condiments.”

He gasped. “Oh yeah! Um, let me think of a good one. Hmm... I know! Brightly colored packaging!”

“Personalized license plates.”

“Teasing British people for their accents!”

England gave an insincere scowl. “Accurate. Bank holidays.”

“Iced tea!” America exclaimed with a little smirk.

“Disgusting. Blue jeans.”

“Cowboy movies!”

“Over-the-counter medication that they should not have access to.”

“New York!”

“Processed meat.”

“Dogs!”

“Uncomfortably friendly relationships with their neighbors.”

“Soda!”

“You.”

America smiled and poked his cheek. “You, too. Most of the time.”

“Oh, shut it.”


End file.
